


perfect match

by Tsumeggii



Category: A3! (Video Game)
Genre: Fluff, M/M, No Beta We Die Like August, a little character study i guess, gays, holds kyuten gently
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-18
Updated: 2020-09-18
Packaged: 2021-03-08 00:40:18
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,280
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26526856
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tsumeggii/pseuds/Tsumeggii
Summary: He looks over at Kumon’s own rough ones before taking it in his, intertwining their fingers easily and thinks of how well they fit in his own dainty ones.
Relationships: Hyoudou Kumon & Sumeragi Tenma, Hyoudou Kumon/Sumeragi Tenma
Comments: 6
Kudos: 37





	perfect match

**Author's Note:**

> this is very awful im so sorry

“Tenma-san, I don’t think those puzzle pieces fit together.” 

“Hell if I know what fits together! You never showed me the picture in the first place!” Tenma complains raising the haphazardly stuck pieces in front of the younger’s face. It’s not a perfect match, with one piece barely fitting in the crook of the other.

Kumon laughs, “well they are correct pieces! You just stuck them wrongly.” He holds his hand out to take the barely hanging on piece, turning it right. He fits them together once more and like a lock to a key the pieces snap perfectly in place, no crumpled edges squeezed out to fit in the forms of the other. 

Tenma sputters, “well.. I knew that!” he huffs placing the fit pieces down onto the ground. 

Tenma is bad at puzzles. It’s not something he likes to discuss about, having lacked the experiences a normal kid would have by the time he’s hit eighteen. It’s not his fault either. Not with how frustrating puzzles are on it’s own. Tenma used to think they’re instruments of mental torture. Why would someone willing sit down for hours to complete a cut up picture? School’s already tiring enough. 

“How about this, Tenma-san. Let’s start with the edge pieces! Nii-chan and I used to do puzzles together all the time and it’s easier to finish the picture that way,” Kumon explains, calloused fingers already sorting out pieces as he speaks. It makes him look at his own hands, smoothened out by professional care to brandish into the world of media. It’s like everything about Tenma was porcelain, dolled up to impress, all outward wrinkles smoothened out to display unachievable perfectness.

He looks over at Kumon’s own rough ones before taking it in his, intertwining their fingers easily. The younger snaps up to look at him, surprise apparent on his face. He hopes the dimness in the room hides the flush on his cheeks as he looks away. 

Kumon’s own calloused hands fit perfectly in his own dainty ones. Dirtied hands from afternoon practices looked stark against him. He wonders if Kumon’s ever distrubed by it. By how vastly different they are. 

Kumon doesn’t say anything, instead mindlessly humming to himself as he continues on with the puzzle as he moves his hands to hold onto Tenma’s tighter. 

Tenma feels inadequate at the sight- lost as he looks over the mass of similar looking pisces sprawled in front of him. It looks impossible, with how everything seems to merge seamlessly, each edge looking like they can fit anywhere. 

This was frustrating but he remembers how excited Kumon was, barging into his room just as he was about to fall asleep for an afternoon nap, waving the box in the air. 

“It’s a fun date idea! I know you’re too tired to go outside right now, so we can stay in and play!” Kumon explained before dropping the puzzle pieces on his and Yuki’s shared room. 

Someday he’s gonna have to learn to say no to Kumon. 

“Edges? Alright, got it.” He mutters, sorting out some stacked pieces like a man on a mission. It takes him longer than he’d like, eyes scanning impassively over each item before pausing, deft fingers picking up an inconspicuous edge piece up as if it were a rare artifact, brandishing it over the younger’s face proudly. “I found one!” He smirks, eyes gleaming with pride. 

Kumon laughs, taking the piece from Tenma’s hand. “Nice one, Tenma-san!” He cheers, placing the edge piece to where it seamlessly fits into the rest of the edges already lined out on the floor. Tenma gapes. 

Kumon picks up two more pieces and finishes the edges, the frames of the puzzle melting into something clearer. “Okay, I’ll work on the left side and you work on the right side.” Kumon bargains, laying out pieces for him to shift through. 

Kumon’s good at this, he thinks. Kumon’s good at many things. One of them being, worming his way into the hearts of many people as fast as he could. It’s a skill Tenma admires, how easy it is for him to make someone comfortable. It’s not as if Tenma doesn’t try, it’s just that silence comes easy around Kumon. He doesn’t have to pretend to be anything, he can just exist by him. 

What were they doing again? Oh, a puzzle. Tenma can do that. He can finish a puzzle section of his own, that’s easy work- he keeps to himself, hands out flipping pieces over for him to see. He pauses, what was this picture about anyway?

He looks over at Kumon, reaching out to snag the puzzle lid to see the picture. It’s a scene from one of his favourite franchises, the one where a group of teens cross the globe to find a fairy rail or some type of shit. They’ve watched it together once and Tenma feels kind of awful to not remember much of it. All he remembers is getting snuggled up to Kumon despite him yelling in his ear about some magic sword. 

His eyes filt from the box to the mess in front of him, picking up pieces to place them over, trying to figure out where which piece goes. This isn’t rocket science, so why was it so difficult to find a matching pair? He’s about to chuck the offending box across the room when his eyes catch sight of the brightly colored banner on the side of the box. 

_For eight to ten year olds._

He’s eight years too old for this bullshit. 

The banner launches him into another plane of existential crisis. Was this what kids were playing? This horrible game of hide and seek between capitalized cardboard cutouts? He thinks it’s stupid. Why were they even doing this in the first place. For fun? He doesn’t think so. 

He’s about to voice out his complaints when he looks over at Kumon, his face fitted into the same type of seriousness he displays in game. He holds each piece gentler than he would with a baseball, but as surely and secure as he always does. His eyes are sharp, the bright lime gleaming as his eyes scan for parts the way he’s keeping an eye out for a batter’s form. He looks breathtaking. Crushing the puzzle as he does, acing each pitch he throws. 

It’s as if he knows exactly how to find the exact piece he’s looking for. 

Then Kumon turns to look at him, and smiles. 

Tenma thinks it's kinda like how he and Kumon are two pieces of a puzzle. 

In this seven billion puzzle, Kumon found him. 

Would he have found Kumon? He doesn’t think so.

Then Kumon says, “Last piece!” snapping him out of his reverie as he hands it over to Tenma. 

He looks down at it, the piece leaving a gaping hole in the picture. He feels like there’s a metaphor in here somewhere. A little lesson tucked in the fold of the moments he shares with Kumon. 

He places the piece down where it fits, seamlessly blending in with the picture. “It’s a perfect match!” Kumon cheers, proud, as he should be.

His mind thinks of how the spaces in his hand fits well with Kumon’s. How perfect it feels to tuck the other’s head in the crook of his neck, or how Kumon curls himself around him. He thinks of how well Kumon fits in his arms, of how easy it is to squeeze into the spaces Kumon lets him. He thinks of how easy it was for Kumon to get through him. 

“...kinda like us?”

Kumon looks over at him, and smiles.

**Author's Note:**

> this was just a brain shart of mine after seeing the amount of kyuten on twitter lately. thank you for reading! I hope you have a great day mwa!


End file.
